Ludwig's Daycare
by warmwinternights
Summary: England has a crush, a high tech surveillance system, and too much spare time on his hands. The BTT have a grudge. Meanwhile, poor Germany is left to babysit them and the rest of the world at yet another world meeting. A crack/parody fic, no AU. Crack USUK, implied FrUk, very minor Ameripan. Rated T for terrible. This took me forever to finish. Please love it.


Germany stepped out of the taxi with his briefcase and shut the door behind him. His suit may have been tailor-made, but that didn't keep it from tugging at his abnormally broad shoulders. The freshly-pressed fabric wrinkled, and his mouth curled into an irrigated grimace.

"Don't do zhat with your mouth," Austria scolded from behind him. "You'll get premature wrinkle lines."

"Vhy did you haffe to come along in my car, Austria?" he growled, not in the mood for another one of his lectures.

"I'm not going to pay for one myself. Besides, it's vasteful otherwise. And you carry my briefcase for me, I'm too tired." The insolent bastard tossed his briefcase into Germany's arms and proceeded to walk - excruciatingly slowly - towards the UN building, his back stock straight and chin held high, displaying his mole for the world to see. Angela Merkel patted Germany on the shoulder, which was their code for "There's a nice cold beer waiting for you back home; just buck up and deal with it." She then walked off toward the nation leaders' building. Germany followed Austria, trying to find his happy place. It was filled with dogs, mostly. And lots of sausage. (You can make of that last sentence what you will.)

"GERMANYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!" a high-pitched voice screamed from across the courtyard. Germany struggled to remember if he'd brought his aspirin along or not.

"Germany-germany-germany-germany! You look even less happy than usual today!" Italy whined. "Here, I made you a pasta lunch to cheer you up. It's a good thing I did, you look like you really need it this time. Did you remember to do your laundry yesterday? The dogs are fed, I hope. Would you like to eat your pasta lunch now? I made an extra in case you were really hungry."

Germany began to tremble with anger, and Italy began to tremble with fear. But he let out a slow, deep breath, reminding himself that while Italy did act like a fussy housewife and drive him batshit crazy more often than not, he meant well. And he had even put extra Italian sausage in the lunch, he noticed as he opened the package.

"Szank you, Italy. I appreciate it." Italy's smile lit up with the strength of a thousand suns, and Germany cursed himself for forgetting sunglasses. Italy skipped alongside his temporarily blinded (boy)friend, guiding him through the doors and to the meeting room, at which point his eyes had readjusted for the most part. Unfortunately, they readjusted to see a large, camouflaged tent in the corner of the room. The thing about camo is that it's only effective when you're using it outside. Not inside a beige meeting room. But England was too prideful to admit it, once Germany had pointed it out, and made a point of purchasing the same green-and-brown colored tent every time the old one wore out. Germany would object to the entire ordeal, but it kept England from arguing with everybody else (France) and throwing low blows at any idea put on the table (America's). So he tried his best to ignore it and tend to the large vein pulsing in his forehead instead.

"Germany? Your forehead is pulsing! Should I get a nurse? Are you okay?" Italy asked, a look of worry plastered across his dumb face.

"Yes, Italy, I'm fine. I'm used to it," Germany replied, popping an aspirin. He pulled something fluffy out of his briefcase and gave it to Italy. "Just take zis and stop bozzering me, okay?"

Italy squealed and danced around in circles. "It's a pretty little kitty cat! You brought me a pretty little kitty cat, Germany! _Grazie!_ Thank you!"

" _Bitte sehr_ , Italy." He proceeded to shuffle about a bunch of papers and look busy. (In fact, he had no idea what any of the papers said, because they were all in Japanese. It was an English dub, so no one had bothered to translate the kanji.)

Meanwhile, America was hopping out of his limo, its chassis screenprinted with a garish crossfade of the American flag, waving majestically in the wind, and an eagle. He'd thrown the masterpiece together in 5 minutes in Photoshop and begged Obama to take a little something from the national budget to fund its creation. Begrudgingly, the president agreed and added a 0.001% tax increase to the upper class bracket, which threw the majority-Republican House into an outrage and shut down the government for the 2nd time that week. (But it was totally worth it.)

America and Obama performed the secret American handshake before going their separate ways. England watched all this intently, the grating LCD lighting of the multiple live-feeds running inside his tent burning his eyes. America started talking to someone, and England cursed, realizing he'd forgotten to switch on the audio transmission. He slipped his headphones over his ears and fiddled with the soundboard until he caught the radio signal.

Through a chip that he had implanted in him while he was in a food-induced coma last Tuesday, England could hear every word America said. Paired with his intricate system of traveling security cameras and drones he stole from the UK's weapons bunker, he was able to track every movement and interaction America had. Slowly he brought up the volume, listening in on a conversation he was having with Japan outside the building.

" - video games? I downroaded some new mods for G-T-A that I sink you will rike."

"Aw, cool, that'd be totally sweet, brah! You want me to head home with you after the meeting?"

"Sure, if that's arright with you."

"I'm THERE, bro." America glanced over his shoulder and spotted Estonia, who was discussing something with the other Baltics. "Hey, dude, I'm gonna go talk to Estonia, kay? Catch you later!" he yelled, waving and running over in Estonia's direction.

" _Say_ _ō_ _nara_ , Mr. America," Japan said, but England had already tuned out. He tugged the headphones off his head, filled with rage.

"That bloody idiot! I can't believe him, cheating on me like that! I thought he _loved_ me! The nerve! Well, I'll teach that bloke not to play with my feelings anymore, goddamnit!" He unzipped his duffel bag, rifling through to find some more stalking _surveillance_ equipment. But it really was dark inside that tent, and he couldn't see his own hand in front of him.

So when a 4 ½ foot shadow popped up out of nowhere from the bag and screamed, "HELLO, ENGLAND!" he nearly got a heart attack.

England fell into the wall and slid to the floor, tearing down the tent curtains and bathing the operation in the harsh fluorescent lights of the meeting room. Once he recovered his eyesight, he was even grumpier. There stood Sealand, arms spread wide and a - was that an Olaf helmet on his head? "Aren't you glad to see me? Goodness, how rude of you, not to greet me after I say hello!"

"Bloody - what the HELL are you doing here?! Did you sneak along in my camera bag? You git! Get out, get out!" England yelled, swatting at him with a Canon catalogue. Sealand laughed and hid under the table, activating his super spy gear that Finland had gotten him for Christmas and immediately turning invisible. England muttered Olde English profanities that nobody but he and Scotland understood and got to work setting up the collapsed tent all over again. Germany, who had been terrified that England's attention would shift to social interaction, was relieved, and began to take attendance.

And then France walked into the room.

England saw him entering out of the corner of his eye, while he was adjusting a tent pole that kept hitting him on the head when he twisted it the wrong way. Now, he was already irritable (when wasn't he?) but France was guaranteed to put him in an exponentially worse mood, no matter what the situation. His stomach also tended to flutter, but that was the urge to punch him in the face, not snog him on it. (At least that's what he liked to tell himself.)

Leaving the tent pole to collapse again, he marched over in the Frenchman's direction. France noticed him walking over and turned to face him, a smirk playing across his angular features. " _Salut,_ Angleterre," he said.

"I'm going to have to ask you to leave the premises, your smelly cheese smell is stinking up the room and it's causing public discomfort," England fired off, proud of himself for coming up with such a scathing putdown on such short notice.

"Nonsense, at least it masks the odor of cheap scotch that you seem to have dragged in here," France shot back nonchalantly, still smiling.

England sputtered, looking for a comeback. Eventually he found one. "Your smelly smell doesn't matter, it's that frog face of yours that's got everyone going blind."

"Mmm, you're just envious of my luscious locks and high cheekbones," France said, tossing said locks over his shoulder. They just fell back to the same spot, but the point was to look cool, not actually get anything done. Like most things France did.

"I am known for having the high cheekbones!" Russia chimed in cheerfully from the corner of the room. Everyone turned to examine his facial structure. It was true. He had supermodel cheekbones. But no one would admit it, and they were always hidden under that godforsaken scarf, anyway. Besides, this proclamation ended up being to his disadvantage, since Belarus and Ukraine immediately ran up to him to squish his extraordinary cheeks.

England went back to his argument. "At least I spend my time on _intelligent_ things, not wasting my day trying to impress everyone I see."

"Perhaps you just have no one to impress, _mon ami._ I could fix that for you," France said with a wink, twirling a strand of hair around his gloved finger.

"As if I would ever want to be with a bugger like _you!_ " he yelled, his entire face going red.

"As you wish," France said, and sashayed off to make conversation with Hungary. God, he _hated_ it when France sashayed.* England spun back around, checking his Apple Watch. A smile bloomed on his face as he imagined sending his heartbeat to America with the matching one he'd bought him. He tapped around the tiny screen, accidentally ordering a pizza and sending two texts of absolute gibberish to the Queen before he managed to navigate to his camera feed with his pudgy finger. Looking at the time on the clock on the wall of the meeting room - because obviously his watch was not for telling time - he cursed. He'd lost track of America for exactly 2 minutes and 54 seconds. He could be anywhere in the building by now!

England glanced back down at his tacky rose gold "timepiece". He switched between tapped security cameras throughout the building, spying a few creepy-looking robot animals in the corner of one - what was with that, anyway? - until he found the beautiful blonde idiot, walking and talking with Lithuania. It was a security camera, so there was no sound, but from the looks of things America was enjoying himself a little _too_ much. Or at least in England's opinion. And that simply would not stand.

Germany, already distressed by England and France's altercation, saw him heading toward the door. Doing a quick head count, he realized that America wasn't here yet. If England escaped the room, God knows when he would find him again. In a back alley, crying, with broken whiskey bottles digging into his back? In a previously undiscovered room, with America chained screaming to a wall and a nasty-looking whip in his hand? (It wouldn't be the first time.) Passed out half-naked in the bosses' meeting room, his pants later discovered in Russia's suitcase? _Gott im Himmel_ , he couldn't be a babysitter for every country AND England. He had enough on his plate with Russia trying to conquer anyone who shared the continent, Belarus trying to conquer HIM, Switzerland ready to shoot anyone who even thought about conquering of any sort, and Francis trying to conquer the vital regions of anyone and everyone, regardless of what they thought about it.

 _At least Prussia is at home,_ he thought.

No such luck.

With a loud cackling, Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and turned around to face the doorway, where none other than Prussia himself was blocking the exit of a hissing, sputtering UK. "You tryna see your _boyfriend_ , Iggy?" he taunted, laughing maniacally. "Am I standing between you and your _boyfriend_? Whoops, my bad." England tried to duck and roll between Prussia's legs, but he just picked him up by his head and tossed him over into the corner, where he landed on his rump with a thump. Germany marched over, grabbing Prussia by the wrist and dragging him over to the table. "Ow! OUCH! _AUER! HAU AB!_ " he protested. Germany deposited his ass in a heap in an uncomfortable wooden chair and started yelling.

" _Musst du das immer machen? Ich habe genug zu tun ohne das du mit kommst und Unfug machst! Warum kannst du dich nicht einmal wie Erwachsener benehmen?_ " he yelled. ["Why do you always have to do this? I have enough to do without you tagging along and making mischief! Why can't you act like an adult for once?"] Prussia just sort of sat there, and, once the tirade was done, put on his most pitiful face.

"Aww, West, why you gotta chew me out in front of everybody? I just didn't want to be sitting at home all lonely again. And I wanted to see my friends…you know?" He stared up at his younger brother with Oscar-worthy puppy-dog eyes. God knows Germany loves anything to do with puppies.

He let out a soft sigh. "Fine. You can stay. But just zis vonce, understood? And you need to _behave_ yourself." He knew as soon as the words left his mouth that Prussia would do no such thing, but he couldn't very well send him back home, not with those sad eyes looking at him.

"HECK YEAH!" Prussia pumped the air with his fist, then sprang up and ran over to France and Spain, who all hugged and immediately began conspiring in a corner. Germany popped another aspirin as discreetly as he could and checked to see what England was up to.

The spot by the wall sat empty. He groaned. Of course, the country had probably made a break for it and gone looking after America, who was no doubt in the building by this time. Now he had to track him down, and leave everyone else unattended. With the infamous BTT in the room, that meant a disaster was imminent. He would send Switzerland to go retrieve him, but he'd probably shoot him, drag everyone else into the matter, and start another world war.

And then he would declare total neutrality. Like always.

He deliberated over who to put in charge. First out were the BTT members, then anyone associated with them - they'd just ally with whatever plans the group made. So Hungary, Belgium, and Japan were out (which was a shame. Japan would have been a good candidate for the job if he weren't such good friends with Prussia.) Austria may speak as though he had a level of authority, but he was no good at actually maintaining order, just yelling at people to do it for him. Switzerland was too trigger-happy to be placed in a position of power, and if there was a dispute, he would just claim neutrality and shoot anyone who got too close to his chair. Russia would probably just take the position as an excuse to declare possession of everyone in the room, and the Baltic states were all essentially under his control. Italy and Romano were a joke at best. Same went for Poland. China would sell his silence to anyone who offered enough money, and the rest of the Asians tended to keep to themselves. Australia was off backpacking through the Outback, and Lithuania wasn't here yet. Turkey would abuse Greece, and Greece could - would - sleep through a tornado.

But who else could he put in charge? The Nordics seemed like a good idea at first, but then he thought it over. Sweden (who wasn't even here yet) and Finland would let Sealand run rampant, Iceland was still a teenager and more preoccupied with MySpace emos than reality, Norway would place a spell on everyone and probably squash somebody with a troll, and Denmark would just get everybody drunk, or join in with the BTT. So that left Romania, Bulgaria, and the Netherlands. He barely knew Romania or Bulgaria, besides that the one was in the magic club, and Bulgaria seemed kind of quiet.

Which left the Netherlands. He may be a little cash-obsessed, and he had hair worthy of an anime cardverse character, but he seemed like the type who could keep order if necessary. So Germany followed the scent of pickled fish over to Netherlands, nearly tripping over his scarf.

"Excuse me? Nezerlands? I need to go take care of England for a few minutes. Can I put you in charge while I'm gone?"

The Netherlands turned his head slowly to face Germany. They were about equal in height, if you discounted the hair. He stared at him with a slightly stoned look and took a while before replying, "How much will you pay me?"

Germany blew out a breath of air. "Ahhh…I vas hoping zat you vould do it for free, actually."

Netherlands stared at him for what seemed like ages before snapping his head back to the position it was in before. "No deal," he said curtly.

Germany ran a hand through his hair. "Right. How about 10 Deutsch marks per minute? Is zat good enough for you?"

Netherlands turned his head back over to Germany, his body unmoving. It was like an owl. Kinda creepy, to be honest. "Deutsch marks are no longer a valid form of currency."

 _Scheiße,_ he thought. He'd actually expected to get away with that one. "Fine. 10 Euros?"

"The Euro's value has plunged dramatically in the stock markets during the past few quarters. I will accept a price increase of no less than 50%," he said, glaring intensely.

Germany groaned. "Ok. Fine. 15 Euros for each minute I'm gone. Will you keep track of everyone here and make sure no one declares a third world war or something?"

Netherlands stared at him with his freaky owl stare before jerking his head back to its former position. "Or something," he replied mysteriously. Germany decided to take that as a yes and hustled out of the room.

England, however, had known that Germany would come after him sooner or later. So he'd run as fast as he could on a diet consisting of shepherd's pie and excessive amounts of tea, following the GPS signal to where America was still walking with Lithuania. Sprinting around the corner, he ran smack-dab into America's chest, throwing the both of them to the ground. America tumbled into the wall, hamburgers spilling from his pockets and flying everywhere.

"DUDE! Watch where you're going!" America yelled. Lithuania screamed and rushed to America's side, wading through the minefield of hamburgers. "Mr. America sir, are you okay? Is anything broken?"

Slowly he sat up, leaning on his elbows. "I think I'm good, dude, thanks." He squinted at the room, an expression of confusion on his face. "Hey, bro, could you find my glasses for me? I can't see shit."

"Of course, sir. Right away." Lithuania dropped down onto all fours and started sweeping the floor with his hand as he searched. Ketchup was, as a result, smeared evenly across the carpet. Hamburger meat found its way into the cracks and crevices of the fabric, forever tainting the hall with the smell of rotting cows.

America looked over to try and identify his assailant, but his vision really was terrible. A big, stripey lump was lying on the carpet, as far as he could tell. It started to groan and shift, slowly rolling over.

"Mr. America! I have found your glasses!" Lithuania declared. He rubbed the condiments and tomato juice off the lenses with his sleeve before guiding them back onto America's face.

"Thanks, dude, Lithuania, you're the best!" he replied, grinning. They both turned to the lump, which had turned itself onto its back and was still moaning. There was a hamburger patty splayed over its face, hanging limp and draped across its nose, earthbound as the force of gravity tugged at its ingredients. Like that one Dali painting with the clocks. The composition was almost poetic. Very elegant. But I digress.

America stood up, walking over to peel the hamburger off the face of the culprit. As the mask was removed, and the truth revealed, America and Lithuania gasped.

"Woah! England? What're _you_ doing here? Aren't you usually holed up in that freaky tent during world meetings or, like, trying to strangle France or something?" America said.

"Is everything okay, Mr. England? Is something wrong?" Lithuania asked from behind America, curious.

"Oh, America! Ha-ha, didn't see you there!" England said with a grin, laughing awkwardly. He dusted off his suit, brushing at the sleeves as he spoke. He missed some lettuce stuck under his collar. It looked funny, though, so America didn't say anything. "I was just looking for you before the meeting, since I had something to give to you!" England said. He stood back up, his knees shaking. Lithuania looked on with interest while England dug around in his pockets.

"Sweet, a gift? Cool, but it's not my birthday. You do know that, right?" America said, oblivious to the blush spreading across England's cheeks. America put on his thinking face. "Actually, you don't even give me presents on my birthday. Usually you go out drinking and don't come back until 8 or 9 the next morning with funky bruises on your neck. One time we even found you passed out in the neighbor's pool wearing nothing but a fur coat and tightey-whiteys on your head." He laughed fondly at the memory. "But it was okay, because knowing that you weren't hurt was enough of a present for me." He smiled warmly at England, who was overtaken by "the feels". Poor America had no idea what he was doing to the man's heart. The precious cinnamon roll. So pure. So innocent. Surprisingly so, considering how often France came over.

"Oh, well, um, you see…I - I hope you like it!" England thrust the gift at America, hitting him smack dab in the center of his rock-hard chest. The impact crushed his fingers a little, but England fought through the pain. Love hurts.

Gingerly America took the package, and, throwing a look at Lithuania, tore off the wrapping. Scraps of Dan-and-Phil holiday wrapping paper fell to the floor, soaking up mustard and ketchup and staining the cat whiskers with hamburger fat. He examined the box and…

"HAHAHAHAHA!" He burst into laughter. Lithuania looked on in bewilderment, unsure of what to do and tugging at his collar nervously. England stood flustered, his entire face swollen red.

"I - I-I - _what?_ " he sputtered, sweat beading on his upper lip.**

"Aw, man, that's hilarious!" America said, wiping at the corners of his eyes. "Nice one, England, you almost had me there!"

"What on Earth do you _mean,_ I 'almost had you there'? You - do you think this is a joke?" he spat.

America was taken aback. "Um, it's not?" His beaming face twisted into a look of confusion. "But…it's an _Apple_ watch."

"Are you **serious**?" England was hot with rage. "How _dare_ you make a fool of me! Calling my feelings a joke! You've always been so insensitive towards others!" He rolled down the sleeve of his suit, displaying the watch strapped to his wrist. "I even got them matching! Do you have any idea how much money I spent on that?" He gestured to the box in America's hands with one trembling finger.

"Probably less than I did on those taxes you placed on me before the revolution," he muttered with contempt. Lithuania gasped, and stuttered a "Mr. America, I - " before England snatched the package from America, tears already falling from his eyes.

"How _dare_ you, you - you - _ugh!_ " He tried to run down the hallway, but slipped on an errant hamburger patty and fell with a splat onto the condiment-covered floor. He rose unsteadily, and stalked around the corner towards the meeting room, his shoes squelching with every step. America and Lithuania watched him leave, still astonished at the sudden turn of events.

When the squelching faded to nothing but an echo, Lithuania turned to America. "Should I clean these up?" he asked, already bending over to collect the smashed and battered burgers.

America sighed. "Nah, dude, just leave 'em. The building staff'll take care of it." He turned around to examine the carnage. "Man," he exhaled, "I bought out the whole McDonald's. What a waste." He poked at a beef patty with his foot, a smudge of ketchup tainting his freshly polished shoes. Lithuania whipped out a handkerchief and cleaned it off immediately. America didn't notice; he was just staring blankly at the boring beige wallpaper peeling off of the wall.

"Well, in that case…maybe we should get going," Lithuania suggested, moving in the direction of the meeting room.

"Yeah. You're right, let's go." America walked around the corner with long strides, and Lithuania scampered to keep up.

England was fuming. You could practically see the smoke coming from his ears, and maybe that's why it was so easy for Germany to find him and swoop in and nab him by his collar.

"PUT ME DOWN!" he screeched, kicking and flailing in a vain attempt to escape. Germany held him out at arms' length, the fabric of his suit nearly tearing from the mass of his rippling muscles.***

"Vhat are you doing outside ze meeting room? You know perfectly vell you are not supposed to be running around on your own!" Germany yelled.

"I _said_ put me down!" England whined, pulling on Germany's sleeve. Something fell out of England's pocket as he squirmed, a sturdy white box with ketchup stains pockmarking its surface landing on the floor. Germany, still holding his captive up in the air, bent down to pick it up and examined it.

"…England? Vhy do you have an _Apple Watch_ , of all things?"

England's eyes grew wide. "Give me that, you bloody twat!" He lunged for the box, but Germany lurched backwards and held England as far away from his body as possible, still looking at the watch.

"Is zis important to you?" he asked, not bothering to be subtle. England wouldn't pick up on it, anyway.

" _YES!_ Now give it here, lest I bomb you again!"

Germany scowled. "Absolutely not. Zat is completely unacceptable and you should know better. I will be confiscating zis until the end of the meeting, at the very least."

"Nooooo-ooo! Do you realize what you're doing? I'll take this up with the Parliament, you hear? I'll tell the _Queen!_ You'd better watch your back, you barmy berk!" He screamed and wriggled the entire walk back to the meeting room, where his ass was deposited in a chair at the table. England crossed his arms and huffed indignantly, staring with a sullen look at the clock on the wall. His tent sat still crumpled and half-kaput in the corner of the room, void of human life.

Or at least that's what he thought.

About ten minutes earlier, Francis had gotten the genius idea to raid England's tent while it sat unguarded. Within seconds he had located Hungary and recruited her help on the mission, as long as she promised to leave her frying pan with Austria. It wasn't difficult to sneak into the tent amongst the pre-meeting chaos, and soon they'd made their way inside to expose all of England's secrets.

"Oh-hon-hon-hon! What do we have here?" France chuckled, waking up a camera monitor. Hungary rifled through the camera bags, looking for incriminating evidence/gay sex tapes.

The screens flickered, then lit up the inside of the tent. France and Hungary stared in awe at the extensive array of shots and camera views.

" _Mon dieu,_ he must have hundreds of cameras hooked up to this system!" France exclaimed.

"Hold on," Hungary said, crawling over with an armful of VCR tapes. "Here, give me the mouse." France, who had never been very good with computers, obliged and sat down with an intense gaze on his face. Hungary clicked around the screens, pulling up images saved over the past few hours. With a few keystrokes, she exposed the names of each monitor and audio output.

"AMERICA_AUDIO_FEED," she read aloud. "CAMERA_2, AMERICA_GPS_CHIP, AMERICA_LIMO_CAMERA…Goodness gracious, he's got the entire building tapped!" she exclaimed. France looked closer.

"You know, all these names have something in common…" he said, rubbing his stubbly chin contemplatively. Hungary looked at him questioningly. Suddenly he had an epiphany. "They all have to do with America! Hungary, do you understand what this means?" France grabbed her shoulders in excitement. Hungary immediately tensed and raised her fists, yelling, "I WILL FIGHT YOU, YOU DOUCHENOZZLE!"

France removed his hands with a pouty expression and continued. "Don't you _see?_ They all say America in the names! He's obsessed with him! Little England has a _crush!_ " Hungary's eyes widened, and a grin slowly spread across her face. You could practically see the gears turning in her head.

"So what should we do?" she whispered.

"Hmmm…" France mused. "Well, we could tell everyone we know about it, or try and get the two together." Hungary thought this over.

"Oh! I have an idea," she exclaimed.

"Does it involve a frying pan? Because if it does, I kind of doubt it will work," France said.

"No no no." Hungary waved away his statement with her hand. "What if we got them together, in the view of one of the video cameras, and then recorded it? We could use the tapes against him, somehow."

"Ooh, blackmail?" France grinned. "I like it."

They conspired together in the tent, and were still doing so when Germany marched into the room and tossed England into his chair. Netherlands, upon realizing he had returned, immediately speed-walked over. Germany heard him coming, and sighed when he looked up.

"I suppose you vant your payment, yes?" he asked Netherlands, already weary.

"That would be preferable," Ned replied. He still had that unsettling owl-look going on. Freaky.

Germany, completely out-of-character, had promised Ned the money without actually thinking it through. And now he had no money on hand and was facing the very real reality of potentially being strangled with an abnormally long scarf.

Suddenly he had an idea. Digging around in his pocket, he pulled out the Apple Watch he'd confiscated earlier. He angled his body away from England, using his massive upper body to hide the transaction. "Vould zis be acceptable?" he asked, showing Netherlands the box.

Ned examined it carefully, turning it over in his hands, before nodding and pocketing it. "It will sell quite well on eBay, at least."

Germany let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Thank you for vatching the room while I vas gone," he said. Netherlands simply spun around with a swish and walked back over to Belguim and Luxembourg, who had arrived during their exchange. Germany looked around the room - everything seemed to be in order. As soon as America and Lithuania arrived - because Japan had just walked in the door, and was petting a cat sitting on Greece's head - they could begin the meeting.

Suddenly the door was thrown open with a bang. Someone leapt into the room and screamed:

"THE HERO HAS ARRIVED!"

From behind him, Lithuania popped a confetti popper. Feeble scraps of red, white, and blue tissue paper floated to the ground behind America, who stood in a triumphant pose, hands on his hips. Quickly Lithuania scampered around the front with a teeny hand fan and turned it on. America's bangs twitched in the weak breeze. The rest of the room looked on in stunned silence, but recovered pretty quickly. This wasn't the first time America had tried his hand at a surprise entrance. He was barely an adult; it was kind of cute to watch.

Germany cleared his throat. "Right, now that everyone's arrived, it's time to being ze meeting. Please take your seats and ve vill begin shortly."

Everyone shuffled into their respective places. Russia's coat was extremely bulky, and since Prussia had come along without Germany knowing, they were short a seat. Like a game of musical chairs, Russia was left standing without a place to sit.

"Oh Laaatvia?" he cooed, placing a terrifyingly large yaoi hand on the teenager's shoulder.

"LATVIAAAAA!" Estonia screamed. Lithuania stared at his fellow victim of coercion and intimidation, a horrified look on his face. Latvia trembled with fear. Russia smiled. His breath smelled of vodka.

"Would you mind giving me your chair, Latvia? You are young, you can stand for rest of meeting, right?" Russia said sweetly.

"Uh - um, yes, of course, right away, sir!" He sprung up and scampered to a corner of the room, still shaking.

"Thank you, Latviaaaa! I will give a surprise when you get home, _da?_ " Russia cooed, as he took his seat.

"Please no surprises!" Latvia squeaked, sweat dripping down his forehead as he slid down the wall and huddled in a ball in the corner.

The rest of the room, intimidated and not in the mood to be passive-agressively targeted by Paul Blart meme cop himself, turned a blind eye and returned to the matter at hand.

"Alright, now that that's settled," Germany continued. "On ze list of topics to be discussed today are the economic and refugee crises in Europe, the nuclear deals that America's been working on, trade sanctions between literally everybody, ISIS's recent advances, the earthquake in Nepal…"

At this point, everyone had already stopped listening, except for China, who was waiting for a moment when he could remind everybody how much money America owed him. France kicked England under the table, and he kicked back, until they were locked in the most aggressive game of footsy ever. Japan was playing Animal Crossing on his DS, America and Russia were sending each other useless and insulting gifts on Farmville, and Italy was dangling a limp noodle in front of the cat nesting in Greece's hair. There was an entire family up there. Italy wasn't always around to feed them, so they grazed on Greece's hair like cows on a dairy farm. He hadn't gone in for a hair cut in 3 years, and an ecosystem was slowly developing on his scalp with which the cats could sustain themselves. A beautiful symbiotic relationship, symbolic of the wonders of nature and how two creatures could operate in complete harmony. German scientists were actually observing the growth of the society in Greece's hair to better understand how modern ecosystems had developed on a much bigger scale millions of years ago. Greece still hasn't noticed. But I digress.

"…Italy? Italy! Italy, please pay attention!"

Italy looked up from the thriving village on Greece's scalp. "Ve, Germany? Did I do something wrong?"

Germany sighed. "We're discussing the European economy. I figured this was something you might want to listen to, since your economy is sinking almost as much as Greece's."

Italy cued the fake tears, which welled up and teetered on the corners of his eyes within 5 seconds. "But…but I can't help it! Is it really my fault? W-why are you always so hard on _me,_ Germany?" The rest of the meeting room rolled their eyes, knowing word-for-word the scene that was going to play out the same way it had countless times before.

A light blush dusted Germany's face. "I-I just thought - Italy, no, don't cry!" he said desperately, as Italy began to sob. Greece stayed sound asleep in the chair next to him. "Italy, please, I'm sorry," he begged, but Italy continued to cry, drawing it out for the most dramatic effect. Japan, France and Hungary held their cameras discreetly at the ready, waiting for a GerIta hug (or at the very least a blushing Germany). Germany stood at the front of the long oval table, flustered and confused, as he tried to calm Italy down. But to no avail. "I didn't mean it…oh Italy, please, please stop!"

Italy toned down the crying and crossed his arms over his chest with a little huff, turning his face away and putting his nose up in the air. "Sure you did," he pouted. One last tear slipped out and rolled down his cheek, just as he'd planned.

Germany sighed. "Is there anything I can do to apologize?" France smirked a little, knowing exactly what was coming next. Hungary's finger tensed around the shutter button.

"Well…" Italy pretended to think before answering. "You _could_ give me a hug," he suggested, putting on an innocent face and turning back towards Germany, one finger on his chin.

He let out a long breath before finally walking over and bending down to give Italy a hug. "Yay!" Italy squealed, pulling Germany much, much closer than was probably appropriate. He gasped and his face turned beet red. France and Hungary were having a field day with their cameras, and Japan was sketching furiously in a notebook. "Yeah, West, get it!" Prussia yelled from next to Antonio. At that Germany shot up, completely flushed, and chewed out Prussia in rapid, angry German. Steam rising from his cheeks, (not those cheeks, the ones on his face) he stalked back over to his seat and shuffled around some papers. Italy sat contently in his chair, looking smug.

"America!" he barked over the growing chatter, still completely red in the face. "Present your report!"

"Alright, alright, you don't hafta yell, dude," he said, getting up from his seat next to Japan. Sauntering to the front of the room, he gripped a single page of printer paper in his hand, upon which was typed at most five sentences. At the front he tossed it over his shoulder and flipped on the projector. A map of the US showed up on the whiteboard at the front of the room.

"OK, so, I've got my trusty world map here - "

"That's a blinkin' map of the US! You left out 94% of the bleedin' planet!" England yelled from the back, still grappling in foot-on-foot combat with France.

"You're right! I forgot Japan. Sorry about that, dude!" he said to Japan, picking up a marker and drawing something that looked like a lumpy shoe near Oregon. "Right, now that we've got that settled - "

"Oh for _fuck's sake,_ " Romano grumbled, marching over to the computer and pulling up a world map. "See? _That's_ a fuckin' world map for you, burgerbrains."

"Wait, seriously? That's _insane!_ So what's this, then?" he said, poking at the Middle East.

"That's where you've been shipping a crap ton of weapons and troops for fuckin' forever!" Romano spit.

"And this funny shaped thing?" He pointed at Italy.

"That's my brother, now get your hands off Veneziano!" he growled, swatting at America's hand. "You and that potato-inhaling grandpa!"

"Woah, okay, chill," America said, putting his hands up. "I got one last question, though."

Romano groaned. " _What?_ "

America pointed at the landmass above the US. "Who's that?"

Romano and the rest of the meeting room stared blankly at the map. Who was that? Nobody seemed to know for sure. They whispered among each other, completely at a loss.

"Ah, _excsuez-moi?_ " France piped up. "Is it not plain to see that he is pointing at Canada?"

"Oh, yes, of course," everyone else said, finally remembering (or at least pretending to).

"So, um, am I done my presentation yet?" America asked.

"You haven't even presented anything!" Germany said, exasperated.

"Oh, right. Uh, there's a lot of wars over here," he began, gesturing vaguely to the Middle East, "and we're still putting lots of money into the military so we can be the ultimate hero, and also we should totally ship weapons to Ukraine because apparently _somebody_ forgot the Soviet Union dissolved like 20 years ago - " he shot a look at Russia, who smiled demonically - "and there's presidential elections coming up soon, and we're working on the whole same-sex marriage deal and hamburgers still taste amazing and we're still the best. And that's my presentation. GOD BLESS THE U-S-OF-A! America out," he concluded with a salute, then headed back over to his seat and plopped down, pulling a 64 oz. soda from inside his jacket.

Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his elbow on the table. "Right, okay, that was completely uninformative and a waste of our time. Does anyone want to volunteer to go next?"

England, with a final kick to France's shin that left him whimpering, got up and sauntered to the front of the room, nose in the air. "I'll go next," he said, whipping out a large chart of graphs, statistics, and - were those infrared scans? "The UK continues to be superior to everyone else, ESPECIALLY America, in food - " the meeting room groaned - "economy, education, politics, culture, punk music, and obesity rate." He glared at America, who sucked extra-loud on his soda and raised an eyebrow.

"Ok, that's enough from you. France?" Germany interrupted. England gave him a shocked look, already training his laser pointer on the first chart, before rolling up his poster and grumbling all the way back to his seat.

France walked up, tossing his hair over his shoulder, and tapped around on the computer until a picture of an extravagant buffet came up. "Well, as long as we're on the topic of food, I would like to remind a certain black-pudding-consuming Englishman of the extensive list of five-star restaurants residing in Paris, not to mention the Alsace region, which is known for its outstanding wines, and my many vineyards and farms…"

The meeting continued on much in this manner, one country after the other attesting to their cultural superiority while the others ignored them. France immediately texted Hungary after his turn was over, returning to the more important matters at hand.

F: [so what's the plan?]

H: [i say let's check the tapes again during the break. maybe something happened while we were gone!]

F: [true, true]

F: [but can i tell spain and prussia about it?]

H: [ugh, really, prussia?]

H: [fine, just don't let him get within 5 feet of me or i'll whack him a good one with my frying pan]

F: [i'll be sure to let him know]

Despite Germany's numerous attempts, the BTT always managed to grab seats next to each other. This made the relaying of information they probably weren't supposed to have ridiculously easy, and such was the case today.

"Prussia," France hissed, elbowing him. "Prussia, over here."

"Ooh, gossip? Spill." He leaned towards France with a grin on his face.

"You'll never guess what Hungary and I found before the meeting."

His smile faltered. "Wait, you were with Hungary?"

"Oh relax, _mon ami,_ you know I don't have eyes for her," France assured him.

"You have eyes for everybody," Prussia muttered, but kept listening.

"We were looking around in England's tent, and it turns out he has a crush on none other than America!"

"Did I just hear that right?" Spain asked, leaning over Prussia. "Does he really?"

France nodded, grinning deviously.

Spain clapped his hands in delight. "That's so sad, oh my god!"

"How pathetic," Prussia chuckled.

"So what are we going to do with this wonderful information?" asked Spain.

France made a big show of looking secretive, then leaned in and whispered, "Hungary and I are going to see if we can find anything juicy on the tapes he has in there, and then use it as blackmail."

"Ooh, we get to threaten him? How fun," Prussia remarked.

"Wait, what tapes?" Spain said, confused.

"Oh, I left out the best part!" France clapped his hands with excitement. "He has an entire surveillance system set up to track America's every move! There must be hundreds of hours of footage on there. He's even set up a microphone implant that broadcasts 24/7!"

"Holy crap, that's some James Bond shit right there," said Prussia. "I didn't realize that walking before-photo for a tweezers ad had it in him."

"Oh my God, that's golden!" Spain exclaimed with glee, still whispering. "When do we start?"

France smiled. "Meet me in the corner 5 minutes after the meeting intermission. We'll figure it out from there, but be stealthy about it. Don't want Germany to think we're up to something."

"We're always up to something. Little brother's never off my back about whatever plot he thinks we're coming up with," Prussia scoffed.

"Sorry, Gil. Gotta take one for the team." Spain clapped him on the back, and they returned to their upright position just as Germany called on Spain to present. He hadn't really prepared anything, so he walked up and played for time while France and Prussia further discussed their strategy. This went on for a while, one country after the other spewing BS and falling asleep in their chairs while they waited for the clock hands to crawl towards 11:30, when the meeting broke off for an intermission. Eventually, halfway through Finland's presentation on how everyone else could have an amazing government-run tax-sponsored support program like his, the minute hand clicked into place over the number six. America was the first to notice, jumping to his feet and yelling like there was a bullhorn implanted in his throat, "BREAK TIIIIIIME! PEACE OUT, MOTHERTRUCKERS!" He ran out the door of the room just as the meeting broke into complete chaos. Countries were scrambling left and right and trampling their fellow nations in a merciless battle to retrieve their lunches. Germany was sitting in his chair, forehead in one hand, aspirin bottle in the other, while Italy shoved a pasta lunch with a note attached under his nose and Prussia snatched Germany's meal from his bag while he wasn't looking.

France glanced around the room, bored. There were still four minutes before he had to meet the rest of the trio in the corner, so he figured he might as well survey the crowd and flirt with anything with a pulse.

Liechtenstein was just sitting down to eat her sandwich, Switzerland on one side and Switzerland's shotgun on the other, when France approached her. There was a rose dangling from between his teeth, which he removed and practically shoved in her face. Switzerland snatched his shotgun immediately, causing France to flinch, but Liechtenstein held up a hand to her brother.

"Vasch? What did we agree on about you defending me?" she asked sweetly.

Slowly Switzerland lowered the shotgun, a mix of anger and fear on his face. "We said you could defend yourself, because you're a big girl now and that's why you're coming to the meeting in the first place," he muttered.

"Right. Now," she said, turning to face France again. In a flash she pulled a shotgun out of nowhere, the innocent smile still on her face. "Was there something you wanted?"

France's rose wilted and his cocky expression all but vanished. He hightailed it back over to the corner, and Liechtenstein returned to her sandwich, satisfied. Liechtenstein is a badass.

After realizing the humiliating display that just took place, France pouted in the corner and waited for his friends, grumbling. Soon Spain and Prussia had made their way over, after bugging Romano until it looked like he might explode. France clapped his hands, calling their little gathering to order.

"Alright. We have access to England's deepest, darkest secrets, and we have evidence. What are we going to do with it?" Prussia raised his hand. "Yes, Prussia?"

"Tell everyone we know about it?" he suggested, mouth full of bratwurst.

"Brilliant." He raised his hands to his mouth and called across the meeting room. "HUNGARY! JAPAN! I BROUGHT DOUJINSHIS!" Within seconds Hungary and Japan appeared in front of Francis, their eyes darting and searching frantically.

"I lied," Francis admitted. They threw him dirty looks and were about to walk away when he said, "BUT - I have something else that I think might interest you more." Curious, Hungary and Japan turned back towards him. Spain and Prussia watched and waited, smirking a little.

"So - Hungary, you'll remember this - it turns out that in that hideous little tent over there, England's been stalking his crush. He's got hundreds of hours of footage, he's tapped the security cameras - he even has a secret microphone/tracking device implanted in the object of his affections."

Japan moved to speak. "And exactly who might this be?"

France grinned. "Why, none other than America."

Japan gasped, but he was so used to masking his emotions that no one was able to get a good read on his exact reaction. He nodded for France to continue.

"Considering the information available to us, I say we use it to blackmail England. Tell him if he doesn't do exactly what we say, we'll release the footage to the entire world - literally."

"But I thought we were going to tell everyone we knew about it!" Prussia interjected, swallowing the last of his brother's lunch.

"We are. We'll use it to blackmail him, but the fun part is that it'll be released whether he does it or not. What I'm thinking is, we download as much whatever footage we find as we can, and save the especially juicy bits. We'll send him the blackmail letter and a sample of the tapes we found, telling him to embarrass himself during the meeting in some way. Then after that, maybe two minutes or so before he's supposed to do whatever it is we've told him to do, we send everyone the clips." As the others realized what France was getting at, their smiles grew wider and wider. "After he's made a complete fool of himself in front of the world, he finds out and _voilà_! He'll practically die from the shame."

"That's one of the most devious things I've ever heard," said Spain. "Did you download the footage yet, though?"

"Well, I absolutely _despise_ computers, but I've heard that Japan here is a mastermind when it comes to these sorts of modern technologies."

"I wouldn't go _that_ far," Japan mumbled, but smiled at the flattery nonetheless.

France clapped his hands together. "Alright. Now that we've got everyone in on the plan, it's time to split up roles. Japan, I need you to sneak into the tent, find everything worth downloading, and - I don't know - capture it. Or something like that."

"Save it to my cellphone, perhaps?" he suggested.

"Yes. _Très bien_. But quickly, because the intermission is going to end soon."

"I will take care of it right away, then." Japan turned around, and, using his very sick ninja skills, snuck into the tent without so much as rustling the flap.

"Hungary - we are all in this group social butterflies, but I understand you have many connections with the Eastern European countries, correct?"

She nodded. "I'm guessing my job is to spread the video as fast as possible."

"Uh - yes." She smirked, then pulled out her phone and started to scroll through the list of contacts. Meanwhile, France addressed Spain and Prussia. "You guys too - Prussia, you know all the Germanics, and Spain, you know Netherlands and Belgium and Romano. Maybe you could get one of them to help?"

"My sweet little Romano's spiteful towards anything with a pulse, I'm sure he's got beef with England somehow. He'll probably jump at the chance to get revenge for some reason or another. He's so _cute_ when he's angry," Spain enthused, his face going all mushy and lovey-dovey. Ew.

"I think all the roles are handed out, Francey-pants," said Prussia. "Can we get on with things now? Do you even know what you're planning on making him do? Or what the blackmail footage is going to be?"

"Uhm."

"HA! I knew it! We have to figure that out." He glanced over his shoulder at the clock. "And soon."

Spain looked around the room, searching for inspiration. "Where _is_ England, anyway?"

Prussia shrugged. "Who cares? We need blackmail material first. France, how's Japan doing?"

"I'm not sure. I'll check in on him – " As soon as he said it, France's phone started buzzing.

"Ah, _oui_? Japan? Is everything alright?" France said, picking up.

"You will not believe what I just found," Japan answered, clicking noises sounding in the background.

"What? What is it?" Prussia butted in. He was standing next to France's ear, trying to listen in on the conversation.

" _Prussia, for crying out loud_ – tell us, Japan!"

"It looks like England acted on his feelings after all – but he got shot down. In a very harsh way."

France and Prussia gasped. "What are you guys talking about?" Spain whined, but France ignored him.

"Well? What happened?"

"It's all here on tape – video, audio, everything. I'm downloading it to my phone as we speak." There was more tapping, and the clatter of a keyboard.

"Good job Japan! Send it to me as soon as you're done! _Oh mon dieu, c'est parfait!_ " France enthused, ending the call and turning to Prussia.

"Guys, what's going on? I'm confused," Spain complained.

France turned to him. "England got rejected by America! And we have it on _tape!_ "

"No way," said Spain, a grin spreading across his face.

"Yes! This is going to be beautiful! We just have to decide on what the blackmail should say!" France was practically hopping up and down with glee. He really liked pissing off English people, apparently.

Prussia chimed in. "Actually, speaking of that, where _is_ England? The lunch break is over in 10 minutes!"

England? Why, he had left the room to brood. Shuffling down the sidewalk outside the UN building, he muttered curses at that stupid American. HA! To think he'd ever had a _crush_ on him, that hamburger-snarfing, pigeon-brained fool! Well, he could reject England all he wanted! Because from this point on, he, being a proper English gentleman, was completely and totally over it. Done. He'd barely even liked him past his looks, anyway.

He continued walking, glad to get the weight of that centuries-long crush off his chest. Ah, to be free once again! No one to agonize over, no one to obsessively stalk, no one to write said-crush x OC/Mary Sue fics about. How pleasant. How relaxing.

He let out a frustrated growl. Having no crush was so _boring!_ He already missed poring over low-resolution LCD screens inside his moldering tent for hours until his back gave out. That was it. He may have moved on from that beautiful, cheerful, lovely American with the stupid face (or something like that), but now it was time for him to find a new crush. Yes! A new crush who could _appreciate_ all the time and effort he put into creating a committed relationship.

But who was to be the lucky recipient of England's affections? He considered his list of acquaintances. (Spoiler: it wasn't very long. At all.)

He tapped his chin, deep in thought. He couldn't think of any, so he dug deeper. And deeper. And deeper.

God- _damnit!_ He literally had no friends, and the only person who even remotely resembled an acquaintance was France. He shuddered at the thought. As _if_. He wasn't nearly that low.

England spun back around and speedwalked to the UN building. He'd just have to pick someone. He glanced around as he walked, trying to pick someone out of the various countries milling about and eating lunch who was up to his rigorous standards. You know, having a pulse, breathing, going to live at least 150+ years – well, at least that ruled out Prussia.****

Finland was sitting on a wall, munching on some sort of fish paste and crunchy bread. He was cute. They didn't have a whole lot in common, but England could totally make it work. He was just about to go marching over there and strut his stuff when he remembered Sweden.

Oh shit.

He was NOT about to have that former Viking on his tail because he'd tried to make a move on his wife. Nope. No way in hell. England realized he was already within a 5-meter radius of Finland and hightailed it towards the building entrance, casting terrified glances over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed.

England sprinted like a madman to the meeting room, until he felt mildly safer and less likely to be mauled by some excessively possessive Scandinavian. Looking around, he noticed there was a fair selection of countries to choose from here, too. Liechtenstein sat at the table, sipping on a cup of tea and chatting with Taiwan while Switzerland sat next to her and watched them worriedly. Hey, blondes were totally England's type. Just as long as they weren't also frogs. He took a chance and walked over, pulling a sack of scones out of his jacket pocket.

"And how are you doing today, m - "

Within seconds, the barrel of a shiny silver handgun was centimeters from England's nose.

"Screw off, old man. I'm not interested in choking to death on ANYTHING of yours, those nasty scones included," Liechtenstein said coolly, Taiwan frozen agape.

England was too scared to come up with a halfway decent retort and merely whimpered a "s-sorry, ma'am" before scurrying off. Behind him, he could hear Switzerland yelling. "THAT'S THE SECOND TIME TODAY! I swear I am NEVER taking you to a meeting again!" Liechtenstein and Taiwan just giggled.

Ok, so maybe he wasn't that into blondes. That was okay. What about Italy? Italy was sweet, and they'd definitely beat each other up in battle before, and he might be a _pinch_ pissed about the whole not accepting more than 10,000 refugees in the next five years, but hey, diplomacy wasn't everything. There was more to a country than silly shallow stuff like humanitarian issues.

But then again, Germany was already more annoyed with England than usual today. Maybe he shouldn't steal that monster-truck-of-a-man's boyfriend. Which he totally could. He was just too nice was all. Yeah. England could get any man he wanted!

Like…like Spain! They'd had a few flings back during his pirate days! Those were always exciting. It looked like he was chatting with Romano right now, but that was okay. England was a total ladykiller (mankiller?). He could pull this off, no sweat.

"Oy, Spain!" As soon as Spain and Romano heard his voice, they started to laugh. "Eh…Spain, hey! What's so funny, old chap?"

"Did you hear that shitty tea-slurping excuse of a former empire? He called you fuckin' 'old chap'! It's no fuckin' wonder he - " Spain clapped a hand over his mouth before Romano could continue, but kept laughing like a madman.

"Spain? What's going on? Did I miss something?" England leaned on the table with one hand and tried to look cool, but his gloved hand slipped and he just ended up looking really stupid. He resolved to just cross them in front of his chest instead.

"It's - " Spain laughed again. "M – Maybe you ought to go and check your precious tent, huh?" he managed, through bouts of giggling.

" _Idiot!_ Don't give it away!" Romano shoved Spain, who shoved back with a retort. England didn't catch what it was they were saying, though. He was too busy sprinting towards his tent.

"What?! What about my tent?! What did those bloody bastards do - " England sputtered, ripping open the flap to his tent. His jaw dropped when he saw inside.

There sat Japan, mouth open in surprise, with his hands on the surveillance systems keyboard.

"JAPAN?! Of all the people, I never! - "

"England, _sumimasen_ , I can explain - "

"Wait." England held out a hand to stop him. Now that he thought about it, this was perfect. _Yes._ It all worked out. "It's alright, Japan. I completely understand."

"W- you do? Um, Mr. England - "

"Shhh. Hush, Japan." England pressed a finger to Japan's lips. "It's fine. You were just so overtaken with lust for me, but too shy to say anything about it. So you waited for me here, where you knew I would find you eventually. It's silly, but I understand. It's okay now." England got onto his knees and crawled forward on all fours, letting the tent flap slip shut behind him.

"Ah haha, um, actually - "

"It's alright, Japan. Don't worry about trivial details right now. I'll give you what you want," England cooed, sliding on top of him.

"No, really, I believe you're mist - "

"Just _relaaax_ , Japan. You've nothing to fret about now." He moved his lips towards the other's, eyelids fluttering.

"I'mterriblysorryMr. EnglandbutIamalreadyinarelationshipwithMr. AmericaandquitefranklyknowingwhatIknowyoumoveonveryfastandI'mnotsureIwouldwanttodateyouregardless!" Japan burst out, rolling out from underneath England and snatching his phone and its download cable from where it had been connected, previously unnoticed by England, to the main computer. On the screen, a "DOWNLOAD COMPLETE" symbol flashed next to nothing other than a video file of England's pitiful rejection from that morning, and Japan disappeared out the door with lightning speed. Amidst the scuffle, England's Apple Watch smacked against the tech setup, and the display on his watch shattered, shuddered, then died completely.

"You – you WHAT?!" England yelled. He spun his eyes to the monitor screen, then to the USB port, it slowly dawning on him what just happened. "Japan is in a relationship with AMERICA?!" he uttered to himself, in shock, and was just about to scream it to the entire meeting room in agony when a loud, booming voice rang out.

"ATTENTION! IT IS TIME FOR ALL COUNTRIES TO REPORT BACK TO THE MEETING ROOM FOR THE SECOND HALF OF TODAY'S UN ASSEMBLY! YOU MUST TAKE YOUR SEATS IMMEDIATELY AND TARDINESS WILL NOT BE TOLERATED!" Germany yelled, his stentorian tenor effectively herding all the countries back into their previous seats around the table. Latvia stood trembling in the corner again. England, clenching his fists and growling, slid into his seat at the table. Japan was whispering to France and showing him something on France's phone. Figures those two would be teamed up, trying to destroy him. That wine-sniffing, chain-smoking mophead.

Prussia leaned into France after he was finished talking with Japan, France's eyes wide. "Did you get it?" he whispered conspiratorially. Spain and Hungary leaned in closer as well, trying to catch a few words.

France grinned. "That we did. All thanks to the lovely Kiku here. Now all we have to do is send the threat and watch."

Prussia rubbed his hands together. "Lovely. And what should we make him do?"

"I was thinking he should go up to the front of the room and admit in front of the entire world that he is home to the worst cooking in existence. And maybe have him give Germany a lap dance. At least until security gets him."

Prussia cackled. "Perfect. Let's do it."

With Prussia's approval, France smiled back and hit the send button. The blackmail appeared in the conversation, a "sending…" icon appearing below it.

"Huh. Must be bad service here," Prussia guessed.

France shrugged. "I never was good with computers," he said nonchalantly, shutting the phone off and shoving it into his pocket, deeming the deed done.

The way the BTT had organized it, the mass text with the incriminating video was to be sent out in an hour, near the end of the meeting when everyone was dying for things to get interesting, and for just long enough that England could have a nice time agonizing over his supposed choice. France, Prussia, Spain, and their affiliates all waited anxiously, checking the clock or their phones every couple minutes. Meanwhile, Germany was still calling up countries one by one to present their reports. Most were just half-assing it, unimpressed after that morning's display.

The clock drew nearer and nearer, the BTT & co. growing increasingly tenser. Spain began to absentmindedly poke Romano's cheek, who slapped him.

It was T minus 1 minute and go when Germany called on Japan to present his report. England had spent the entire meeting stewing in his anger, with nothing to take his mind off of the events from one hour prior. He was _mad_. Madder than he'd been this entire damned day. And hearing Japan's name called out loud was what it took to finally set him off.

" _Hai_ , Mr. Germany - "

"You bloody _TWAT!_ " England growled from the other side of the table, rising so forcefully the chair shot back from behind him. The entire meeting room's heads turned to England, surprised.

"Is this what you planned?" Spain whispered to Prussia, confused, who just shrugged.

"Eh, just roll with it," Prussia whispered back, turning his attention to the unplanned theatrics.

"Mr. England? What are you talking about?" Japan said, a little fear showing on his face, but still keeping his features neutral.

"You know BLOODY WELL what I'm talking about! You lying sod! **You're** _dating_ _**AMERICA!**_ "

The entire meeting room gasped, America included. Genuine emotion showed itself on Japan's face. America rocketed up from his chair, slamming his hands on the table.

" _Kiku_! You know I'm not out to my dads yet!" America said, staring at his boyfriend with shock.

"You – your _whats?!_ " England spluttered.

"You and France! Duh! You guys are my dads, right? That's how I always saw it!" America said. "You mean you're not?"

"ME?! BEING GROUPED TOGETHER WITH THAT BLOOMIN' FROG, AND AS A _PARENT_ , NO LESS?! I SHOULD **HOPE** NOT!" England yelled. France merely chuckled from his seat and grinned.

Spain couldn't take it anymore. He was too confused. "But what about the message?" he blurted out.

"What _message_?" England hissed, when suddenly a gigantic chime rang throughout as everyone's phones all received a message at the same time. Slowly, each nation drew out their phones from their pockets and purses, and clicked the video. France and Prussia looked at each other, their faces echoing each other's confusion. Had England never gotten the blackmail?

The audio from England's first pitiful rejection that day echoed throughout the room, some phones falling in sync with others. England merely stood there, confused as all hell, but soon recognized his own voice.

" _Are you serious? How dare you make a fool of me! Calling my feelings a joke! You've always been so insensitive towards others!_ "

His face turned a mighty shade of bright red. "WHO – WHO DID IT?!" His eyes searched wildly around the room until they landed on France, Spain, and Prussia, snickering together and watching him.

"You ARSE! I should have known you would pull something like this!" he screamed, leaping across the table to throttle that pretentious bastard. He already had his hands around France's shirt collar when Sealand popped up from under the table, earbuds in and laughing hysterically.

"You're even more of a loser than I thought, England! Thank God I got adopted on eBay by Papa!" he laughed, but trailed off and began to tremble in fear as England slowly turned his head to redirect his rage onto him instead.

"Why, you blasted litTLE - " England began, but in that moment, Sealand screamed. The entire room covered their ears, the insanely high pitch shattering the glass in the windows. There was a stomping that grew louder and louder, until, with a huge blast, the wall of the meeting room next to the door was smashed to pieces. Chunks of boring beige plaster flew to the carpet, and a voice yelled, "PETER! PAPA IS HERE TO SAVE YOU!"

Slowly, the dust began to clear, revealing Sweden outfitted in a Transformer-like robot suit composed entirely out of Scandinavian furniture. The meeting room was stunned into silence. From somewhere near the back of the room, Denmark yelled, "See? I told you so!" before Norway smacked him on the back of the head.

Germany, still in his seat, rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his hands. "So that's where he was," he muttered to himself, massaging his temples.

Optimus Berwald stomped over to Finland and Sealand, picked them both up, deposited them in the chassis of the robot suit, and stomped back out, leaving a gigantic hole in the wall and a trail of ground-up plaster in his wake. The meeting room sat dumbfounded, unsure of how to react to everything that had happened in the last 5 minutes.

Eventually Germany stood up, and said, with a face devoid of all hope, "The meeting is terminated prematurely. You can all go home. And try to use the door this time." These meetings weren't even meetings. They were just daycare for the ridiculous countries of the world, and he was stuck being their babysitter.

Everyone rose from their seats, chattering and laughing, while Germany left and Italy followed him to the secret BDSM dungeon in the building's basement. But only they knew about that.

Overall, this hadn't been much weirder than any of the other world meetings. At least no one got shot this time. Except maybe England's pride. It was going to take him months of Doctor Who marathons with his magical fairy friends to recover from this.

The BTT high-fived each other at a job kind of botched up, but overall pretty well done. Prussia ran off to bother Austria, and Spain left to calm down Romano, who was frantically searching for his brother and that slimy potato head he insisted on associating with. Naturally, though, France was looking for a little more fun before he would call the meeting quits. It couldn't hurt to throw a little salt into England's gigantic, canyon-sized wound, could it? He approached England, sitting dejected and still slightly shocked in the corner by his demolished tent. France swung his hips and twirled a piece of hair around his finger, sauntering up to England, who glared up at him and pulled his arms tighter around his knees.

"So it looks like dear old America rejected you! Poor thing," France quipped, smiling.

"Sod off, you fobbish twit. The last thing I need is you rubbing it in my face," England snarled, undoing the strap on his Apple Watch and tossing it into the pile of rubble.

"Now now, no need to be so rude! I just assumed that you probably set up plans with him this evening, plans that are no longer…how should I say this…relevant?"

"…What's it to you?" England said, suspicious.

"Oh, nothing, really, I was just wondering if perhaps you might like to return to my place instead, since it would be _trés tragique_ if you had to come home to an empty house."

England scoffed. "I may be desperate, but I'm not _that_ desperate! How dare you assume I possess so little self-respect that I would even _consider_ having dinner with a smelly Frenchman like you! Unlike you, I, as a proper Englishman, have a certain level of dignity I need to maintain."

"Oh, _Angleterre,_ your words pierce me like knives. But it's just a little dinner, _non?_ There's no harm in having a bite of food."

"Yeah right. You're just trying to get into my pants by luring me in with your crummy cuisine."

France was taken aback. How had he figured him out so quickly? He switched tactics. "The meal is of no cost to you, my darling! All on me."

England softened a little. "Hmph. Still no."

"Oh, what, would you rather sit at home and slurp some cheap brandy, or have a lovely evening out at a gorgeous Parisian restaurant?"

England grunted. "What kind of a choice is that?" he muttered, then thought it over. Finally, he conceded. "Fine. Because it's free. But just what will I be eating, exactly?"

"Oh, but of course the finest French cuisine!" France assured him, but quickly turned around and muttered deviously to himself. " _The only thing you'll be eating tonight are deez nu - "_

"Excuse me, what did you say? I couldn't hear you, you were muttering," England said, one gigantic eyebrow raised.

France spun back around and smiled. "Oh-hon-hon-hon, nothing, my dear! Nothing at all."

* * *

*You may have thought I was good enough not to slip a Dork Diaries reference into a Hetalia crack fanfiction. You were wrong.

**This sounds like one of the grossest nervous reactions I've ever heard of. It suits him.

***Stereotypical fanfiction sentence - **activate!**

****I'M SORRY PRUSSIA YOU'RE PROBABLY MY FAVORITE CHARACTER BUT I JUST CAN'T RESIST DEAD PRUSSIA JOKES

Note: I used the "she/her" pronouns for Hungary, because I didn't want to confuse people, but I've read more than once that she/he uses "he/him". Just so you know, I guess.

* * *

 **I have been writing this absolute mess of a parody for over half a year.  
**

 **Half a fucking year.**

 **But it was so worth it.**

 **I am beyond excited to see how you all are going to react to this. I've been working on this for 6 whole months and all that work had better be worth it because I swear to God, I poured my SOUL into this fic. Put whatever kind of commentary you want in the reviews section, I will read and treasure it all regardless.**

 **Review and like this if you enjoyed! And if you want another godawful crack fic like this, just ask. We'll see if I can come up with something even dumber the second time around.**


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